


My Adventure

by Tehri



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: A happy life, Also happy fluff, Bungo's death, F/M, Grieving, Sad Fluff, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: They've spent thirty-seven years together, and time is rapidly running out.





	

Once, they had sat together beneath the ancient apple-tree in the Great Smials’ garden and spoken of their dreams. She had told him of her wish to one day go to see Elves beyond the borders of the Shire, to see Rivendell. And he in turn told her that he wished to one day be wed to her, that he might hear her stories and see her smile every day for the rest of his life.

It was, perhaps, the most sudden proposal that a Baggins could have offered to anyone, and he had blushed and apologised for blurting that out. But she, stunned though she was, had laughed and embraced him, her heart lighter than ever before.

It seemed so long ago now. And yet, it had not lasted long at all; her own parents’ marriage had lasted longer than her own. She had been thirty-seven when she married, young and brash and eager for a future with him. And now, an equal amount of time later, it seemed time was running out.

He didn’t look old, did dear Bungo, where he laid in their bed with the covers pulled up over his chest. Older, certainly; his skin had wrinkled, his hair had greyed. But she would not say that he looked as though it was time. His eyes were still sharp and keen, and his grip on her hand was still strong.

“I’m tired, Bella, love,” he said softly. “It’s getting late.”

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet,” Belladonna pointed out. “You would’ve been out like a light if you were truly tired.”

“You know what I meant.” Bungo sighed and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think it’d be fair if I went to sleep now.”

She forced a smile. Always so stubborn, her dear Bungo. She gave his hand a squeeze and quickly glanced to the window; evening was getting on, and the sun was setting.

“Won’t you tell me one of your stories, darling?” she asked, hoping to distract both of them from the previous subject. “Just a short one?”

And Bungo smiled at her and huffed a weak laugh.

“I see where Bilbo gets it from,” he stated. “Well, what shall I tell you?”

“Something happy.”

“Then I know just the one.” Slowly, he lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek. “Once, there was a hobbit who thought he would never find love. He loved his family dearly, that is true enough, but he never believed that he would ever make a family of his own. He did not search for anyone to share his life with, believing that a person able to break him out of his grey and bleak life could not exist.” He smiled again, and there was a kind twinkle in his eyes. “Then one day, he met a sweet lass with twigs and grass and leaves in her hair and mud on her pretty dress. The lass laughed and told him of her adventure, and asked for his help to remove twigs and leaves from her hair.”

“Darling, you needn’t make fun,” Belladonna said firmly, trying to keep herself from choking on the words.

“I am not making fun,” Bungo answered, still smiling. “Now hush, you asked for a story.”

She smiled back, a small and weak one, but a smile all the same. And he continued:

“The hobbit would soon see the lass in many places, and every time she would ask to speak with him. She would ask him why he sat apart from all others, why he sought solitude and silence instead of smiles and laughter. And he would be honest, and tell her how he did not feel as though being close with others than his family was worth it. Little by little, they opened up to each other. The lass told him of her frustrations with her family, of her fears and hopes, and the hobbit answered in kind. Every now and then, she would refer to him as her rock, her mountain; something immovable in an ever-changing world. And he would sometimes refer to her as a breath of fresh air, as a whirlwind – something that brought colour into his life and made him stop thinking so much.” He paused, giving Belladonna a long look, as though he tried to judge her reaction. She calmly gazed back at him and waited for him to continue. “One day, the hobbit told the lass that he wished to marry her. He had never, not in his wildest dreams, expected her to say yes. But she did, and though the road there was rocky, they were soon wed. Day after day, he marvelled at the thought of how she had truly said yes. He marvelled at the fact that she had wished to be with him.” Bungo now grasped Belladonna’s hand with both of his own, squeezing it tightly. “He still marvels, wondering why she chose him. But no matter the reason, he knows that had he not spoken that day, he would have missed out on a grand adventure.”

“You hate adventures,” Belladonna said after a moment’s silence, her voice thick with held back tears. “You would never go on one.”

“I never needed to,” Bungo answered, smiling kindly at her. “You were my adventure.”

“I _am_ your adventure,” she said sharply. “Don’t you start saying ‘were’ all of a sudden, Bungo Baggins.”

“Now, don’t be silly, Belladonna.” Bungo’s smile vanished, and his voice grew serious. “You know very well why I asked Bilbo to leave the room for a while. I shan’t last the night. No, don’t interrupt me!” His eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth, and he quickly reached out and put one finger to her lips. “Whether I wish to or not, I will not be here by morning. I’ll have to close my eyes soon enough, and when I do, it will be for the last time. I will not open them again.”

“You’re eighty,” Belladonna answered, a vague tone of desperation in her voice. “You’re only eighty. You’re-“

“I’m part of a dwindling family,” Bungo interrupted. “And not even my own father made it to his hundredth birthday, Bella. The Fell Winter aged me, and now I am out of time.” He smiled again, though it was weak and shaky. “I had hoped for a few more years. A little more time, to see Bilbo settled into his role as head of the family. I wanted… I wanted this adventure to last a little longer.”

“It still could,” Belladonna insisted. “I’ll… I’ll send for a healer, for miss Salvia. She did well last time, she managed-“

“She _said_ she could only delay the inevitable by a little bit,” Bungo said firmly. “And if you leave now, Bella, you won’t find me awake when you come back.”

“I could send Bilbo.”

“Belladonna, sweetheart. Please.” He never pleaded with her. He never had to. He knew very well that he didn’t have to. Yet, now he resorted to it. “Please, I ask only this of you; do not send for a healer. It will not help. Just as you couldn’t stop your father from leaving, you can’t stop this. No one can.”

“Gandalf could help,” she answered, knowing how frightened she sounded. “He, he knows so much more of this than any hobbit. He could help!”

“Any wizard able to bring back the dead is not a good one,” Bungo said quietly. “Do not ask that of him. Perhaps I did not care to know him well as you did, but I do know this; if you value his friendship, you _must not_ ask that of him. Please, Bella, love. I am tired, and no wizard can help me.”

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that he was wrong. No words came to mind. She watched him, saw that his eyelids were growing heavy.

“I must rest,” he murmured.

“You won’t wake again,” she whispered. “You won’t ever wake.”

“No,” he agreed. “No, I won’t.” With a heavy sigh, he settled against the pillows. For a moment, they locked eyes, and he smiled once more. It made him look decades younger, and for a moment she thought she was once again beneath the apple-tree in her father’s garden. “I think,” he said quietly, “that I love you more now than ever before. As fair as you were when we met, I find you fairer still now that I have had my dream fulfilled. I did get to spend my life with you.”

And with that, he closed his eyes. She didn’t move, only clutched his hand and watched as he fell asleep. Outside, the sun set, and as it did his breaths grew weaker, more shallow. Finally, after what seemed as an eternity, the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and Bungo’s last breath left his body with the sun.

She had always loved adventures. She had loved testing her mettle against the world. Though death was not new to her, she had never before wept and screamed before until her throat grew sore. Adventures could never have prepared her for this.

 

She felt so light. Perhaps it was cold of her to leave Bilbo as she did; but he was older now, more mature. And he was ready. They had bided their time, waited for months for this. She knew that he would grieve, he would mourn. But he would not let it consume him.

She felt suddenly grass beneath her, and heard wind rustle in the trees. She could feel the scent of flowers. As she opened her eyes, she stared up at an apple-tree, filled with ripe fruit, and could see the blue sky between the leaves. There were soft footsteps approaching, and soon enough someone sat down beside her.

“I came here every day, wondering if this would be where I would see you next,” a familiar voice said. “And here you are. Speak of the trolls, and they’ll be on your porch, I suppose.”

She turned her head, blinking against the light, and began to smile. He looked much younger than last time she’d seen him; the lines were gone from his face, his hair was sandy-brown, and his brown eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Come on, love,” he said to her. “You can’t lay here all day. Here, sit up and I’ll help you get those twigs and leaves out of your hair, then we really must be going home.”

“Home?” she asked quietly, moving slowly as she sat up. “Where?”

“Tradition or no, I would rather that you and I have our own smial than share with either of our parents,” he told her with a laugh. “They may have waited for you, but I think I’d rather have you to myself for a while before we go to see them.” He leant closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “Did the last step of your adventure go well?”

“It did,” she answered, laughing suddenly as tears rose in her eyes. “I’m here with you, so I’d say it went very well!”


End file.
